Midnight Misconceptions
by jensenluv
Summary: Tag to Bedtime Stories..Sneaking after Sam when he summons the crossroads demon, what will Dean think when he overhears the demon's taunts..No more desperate, slobby, needy Dean. You can finally be free.. Misunderstandings, complications, and drama ensue.
1. Shadows Can be Decieving

**_Summary----Tag to Bedtime Stories... Sneaking after Sam when he summons the crossroads demon, what will Dean think when he overhears the demon's taunting--"No more desperate, slobby, needy Dean. You can finally be free." Misunderstandings, complications, and drama ensue..._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Jensen, Jared, or any of the other things affiliated with it. I am simply a fangirl writing a story that has been on my mind..._**

**Chapter 1----Shadows Can Be Decieving**

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A lamp's golden glow illuminated the dingy motel room just on the outskirts of Maple Springs, New York. A soft, barely audible groan was heard as the occupant of one of the twin queen beds rolled over, hand laying limply over the bright yellow sheets. The man's sandy blond hair was mussed from sleep, bronze skin sweating almost unnoticeably as his brow furrowed, disillusioning any thoughts of a restful sleep. 

Staring at his brother for a moment as he sat on the opposite twin bed, Sam Winchester pulled on his well worn black boots, chocolate eyes tearing away from his brother's slumbering form as he tied the shoelaces. Gathering the small, olive hued duffel from the floor, the lanky man hoisted it over his shoulders, stealing a last glance at his brother before he opened the blue-painted door and was swallowed by the night.

At the faint _click_ of the door, the sleeping man's hazel green eyes snapped open. Sitting up, he shakily rubbed at his face, his body trembling as he wiped the thin sheen of sweat off his face. Trying to clear his mind of the last vestiges of the nightmare, Dean blankly stared at his shaking hands as images flashed through his mind. His breathing hitched as he remembered Sam's bright eyes glazed over as Death embraced him. Searching the small room for his brother to reassure himself, Dean's heart skipped a beat when he realized the comforting presence of his brown-haired, geek boy brother was missing.

_**Flashback**_

_"Yeah, well I'm taking off. I will leave your ass, you hear me?" _

_"That's what I want you to do!"_

_"Goodbye Sam."_

_The closing of the Impala's trunk severed any last words going through Dean's mind. '_Take care of yourself, Sammy. I'm proud of you.' _The goodbye was left echoing in Dean's head as he peered into the rearview mirror and watched as Sam's form grew smaller and smaller until finally vanishing as the Impala rumbled down the road._

_**Flash**_

_"Sam!?!" Dean whirled around the bar's parking lot, desperately searching for his brother. _

_"Sammy!" Staring into the dark gloom, Dean could hear his blood pumping in his ears as he searched the dark shadows for any sign of his younger brother. _

_**Flash**_

_"Sam? Sammy, where are you?" Dean looked around the chipper motel room, bright blue peeling paint covering the walls. "Sammy?" There was no note, no sign, nothing left behind that suggested his brother was merely out for coffee. Dean glanced at the motel clock; his eyes staring unseeingly at the glaring red numbers, the clock mocking him with the passing minutes as 11:36 turned to 11:37. _

_Black, demonic eyes stared at him contemptuously as the monster in his brother's body sneered at him, lips curling in disdain as Dean gazed pleadingly back…._

_**Flash**_

_Static crackled across the radio, breaking up Martyn Laight's 'Wrapped Around Your Finger.' Scowling at the radio, Dean froze, his eyes shooting to the windows of the café they had stopped by. Sam! Where was Sam! Opening the door to the Impala with a creak, Dean stepped out and half-ran, half-walked towards the entrance of the building, panic building in his chest, heart in his throat as he reached the door. Opening the door with a cling of the bells, Dean searched the restaurant for his Sammy._

_ Eyes immediately drawn to the customer who lay, face down, in a puddle of his own thick, crimson blood, Dean pulled his gun out, walking cautiously into the restaurant. "Sam?" Walking forward, he stared at the grotesque sight of the dead customer. '_Poor bastard.'_ He thought to himself, hoping against all hope he wouldn't find Sammy in the same condition. Passing by the kitchen and stumbling upon the equally gruesome figures of the slaughtered cooks, Dean opened the back door, hunting for any tracks, any clues that might tell him where his baby brother was. _

_"Sam!" No answer. It was silent, almost as if the world were holding its breath. Closing the door, Dean noticed the powdery yellow residue on his hand. Bringing it up to his nose, the familiar stench caused worry to cloud his hazel-green eyes. "Sulfur." He breathed, heart clenching as he ran back to the Impala, ready to start the hunt for his missing geek boy, pain in the ass little brother._

_"SAM!" Looking around the ghost town for the tall beanstalk that was his brother, Dean thought he caught a glimpse of Sam walking toward him. "Sam!" It was him for sure. He lowered his flashlight, relief coloring his weary tone. _

_"Dean!" Sam called out, and God, was it good to hear his voice, tired and hoarse as it was. Dean's eyes widened in alarm as he saw a dark figure sneaking up behind his brother's back, something held in its hand. _

_"Sam, look out!" He yelled, wishing, hoping, _praying_ that Sammy would turn around in time. But it was not to be. Dean could only look on in horror as his brother was stabbed in the back, a grimace of pain twisting Sam's face. "NOOO!" Dean leapt forward, running to Sam, the baby he had sworn to protect, the child he had raised, the only best friend he ever had, his strength, his weakness, his brother, his Sammy. _

_As Sammy fell to the ground, Dean dropped his gun, and he too slid on his knees, fisting his brother's shirt in his hands. "Sam! Oh, Sam. Sam! Hey," He hugged his brother's form against him, reassurances falling from his lips. " Hey, c'mere, c'mere. Lemme look at you." Pressing his hand to his brother's lower back, Dean hissed in a breath at the sticky red substance that now coated his hand. "Hey, look. Look at me." Pulling back Sam's head so he could see his face, Dean murmured to his brother, trying to ignore the life-substance that wet the back of Sammy's jacket. "It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, alright? Sammy?" His brother's mouth was filled with blood, eyes dazed and barely aware of Dean. Dean swallowed harshly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "SAM! Hey, listen, okay? We're gonna patch you up, okay? You'll be as good as new, huh? I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care you, I gotcha. It's my job, right? I gotta take care of my pain in the ass little brother." Dean cradled Sam's cheek with one hand, not knowing who he was trying to reassure. "Sam? Sam. Sam! SAMMY! No. Nonononono…." He wouldn't respond. Why wouldn't he respond? Dean hugged his brother to him, rocking back and forth. "Oh God. Oh God." Anguish and heartbreak rent through his tone as Dean's eyes misted over with unshed tears. Cradling his brother's limp form in his arms, Dean closed his eyes, trying to hide from the awful truth that his brother, his baby brother, was dead. "SAMMY!" Dean's yell tore up to the heavens, stopping Bobby in his tracks as he raced after Jake. _

_**End Flashback**_

"Maybe he just went to the bathroom. He wouldn't have left." Dean murmured, trying vainly to calm his racing heart. "Sammy's here, Sammy's here. Not dead. Not dead." Repeating the mantra over and over, Dean glanced by the door to the room, frantic eyes taking in his own boots laying haphazardly on the floor right next to Sam's…where were Sam's boots?

"Crap Sammy, where'd you go this time?"

Bolting out of bed, amulet swinging around his neck, Dean barely paused to dress before he snatched his boots and ran out the door, forgetting to lock it in his haste. "Dammit Sam, I swear I'm gonna strangle you when I catch up to you…" Dean muttered fiercely beneath his breath as his keen eyes picked out fresh tire marks heading south. Sprinting along the deserted road, Dean could only hope Sam hadn't gotten into any trouble and would be safe and in one piece when he arrived.

* * *

The cool night air wrapped around the missing brother as he hunched into the thin protection his jacket offered, trying to find relief from the biting wind that had sprung up. Fingering the newly built Colt in his pocket, Sam turned his attention to his surroundings. He stood directly in the center of the crossroads, the watery silver rays of the full moon giving him enough light to see by. He brushed more dirt over the small mound with his toe, peering out into the night. All was quiet, the chirping of crickets the only sound in the oppressive silence. Sam sighed impatiently, then whirled around at the slight rustling noise behind him. A young woman, a young _beautiful_ woman stood before him, clothed in a slinky black dress that left almost nothing up to the imagination. Her dark, curly locks cascaded around her shoulders, a knowing smile tugging on her lips as her eyes flashed scarlet, then settled back to the natural, chocolate brown color of the woman the demon possessed. 

"Well, little Sammy Winchester. I'm touched. I mean, your brother's been to see me twice...but you...I never had the pleasure. What can I do for you, Sam?" The demon's deceptively sweet voice lilted in the air, the glint of her ruby red glowing eyes deceiving any sense of security her innocent smile may have belayed.

Not fooled by her silvery voice or human appearance, Sam pulled out the Colt, bringing the newly made gun up so that the monster stared down the face of the barrel. Tightening his jaw, Sam glared at the demon. "You can beg for your life."

* * *

Dean's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of his beloved baby parked a few meters away from a crossroads. _'Sam! You are officially DEAD when I get you! I told you not to do this! My life isn't worth yours, and no matter what you do, I'm going to Hell. It's a fact of life, Sammy. Or death.'_ Grimly smirking at his own joke, the light hearted attitude disappeared completely as Dean caught sight of Sammy talking to the crossroads demon. "Dammit Sam!" He whispered humorlessly, mind racing as he tried to come up with a plan of attack. Noting the Colt pointed at the demon's grinning face, Dean decided to wait and watch and see how things turned out. Crouching behind a convenient bush, Dean's entire body tensed as he readied himself to spring to his brother's need should things appear to go downhill. Of course, being within earshot of their conversation was _required_ in this situation, and was in fact entirely _unrelated_ to the fact that Dean's natural curiosity was insatiable at times…. 

But, as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. And Dean would most _certainly_ not enjoy this particular conversation…..

* * *

**_Soooooo...what did you think? Tis my first Supernatural fanfic...so please be kind! And PLEASE PLEASE review! bites nails anxiously waiting for reviews..._**

**_XOXOX till next chapter! XOXOX_**


	2. Delusions Within the Heart

**_Disclaimer: ...sob sob...Supernatural and the hotties in it (especially Deanie baby) will never be mine. So stop rubbing it in already! wahhhhhhH! _**

**_Summary----Tag to Bedtime Stories... Sneaking after Sam when he summons the crossroads demon, what will Dean think when he overhears the demon's taunting--"No more desperate, slobby, needy Dean. You can finally be free." Misunderstandings, complications, and drama ensue..._**

**_Author's Note--I'd just like to give a great big THANK YOU! to all those who reviewed, and all those who didn't review but still like the story! I'm really really enjoying to write these chapters, and i hope that you will read them and give me feedback, but if not, oh well! at least you'll be taking the time to read, right? ok..now im rambling. So i'll just shut up and let you read... :) Thanks so much!_**

**Chapter Two---Delusions Within the Heart

* * *

**

Sam stared at the demon's sweetly smiling face, a feeling of unease roiling in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed nervously, trying to focus on the sly demon in front of him, while at the same time wondering what could be wrong. The demon smoothed her hands down the silky material of her black dress, ambling in a small circle as Sam continued to point the Colt at her. Her dark eyes flashed crimson in delight as a thought struck her devious mind.

Sam tensed as the demon started talking again, her alluring eyes gazing deep into his own. He could feel her black essence intoxicating him, the oily aura choking him slightly as he narrowed his eyes, glaring fiercely at the possessed woman.

"All this tough talk. I have to tell you, its not very convincing. I mean, c'mon Sam. Do you even wanna break the deal?" The crossroads demon asked, skin stretching tight as she shot yet another furtive smile at the Winchester standing before her. Oh yes, she would have fun playing with this one's mind after all the things he'd done to his darling big brother. Leaving Dean behind while he got to enjoy a shot at normal and go be Joe College, shooting him in the chest with rock salt, calling him pathetic, abandoning him on a hunt to go find Daddy dearest, shooting him in the shoulder, vanishing without a trace from their shared motel room…the list went on and on. Could this get any more delicious?

"What do you think?" Sam all but growled at her. Oh, yes it could. The hatred in his tone, malicious intent oozing from those gorgeous coffee eyes emboldened her, wrapping around her in a wonderful cocoon of hatred and scorn.

"I don't know! Aren't you tired of cleaning up Dean's messes? Of dealing with that broken psyche of his? Aren't you tired of being bossed around like a snot-nosed little brother? You're stronger than Dean, you're better than him." She swore she could _see_ the hate pouring off his tall body in waves. Oh how she enjoyed this, enjoyed the tense working of his jaw, the puny glowers he shot at her….really. Did he think he could intimidate a _demon_, who had been to Hell and back waving a shiny little gun around and glaring at her? Think again, baby Winchester.

"Watch your mouth." If she'd thought it possible, she would say his look darkened even more. Wonderful.

"Admit it. You're here, going through the motions, but truth is…you'll be a tiny bit relieved when he's gone." Hmm…how much of what she was saying was the truth? If she hadn't been looking for it, she might have missed the doubting look that flashed across his face, before it hardened once more into a visage of stone.

"Shut up."

* * *

Dean clenched his fists behind the bush, his own jaw grinding as he listened to the demon taunting his little brother. _'Is it the truth though? Does he really want to get rid of me? Have I been that bad of a brother? Do I really mean so little to him?' _A small, niggling doubt wormed its way into his mind, refusing to leave him alone. 

"No more desperate, slobby, needy Dean. You can finally be free." Dean could see the demon was enjoying herself, but was there even a slightest grain of truth in what she was saying? His mind flashed back to all the instances Sam had been exasperated at him. The Roosevelt Asylum loomed in his mind, a dark memory that was just as easily replaced with another and another after that. Come to think of it, Sam _always_ seemed to be annoyed at Dean for one thing or the other. Whether it was eating ribs on the bed, flirting with the woman behind the desk, or making lecherous jokes, Sam would always be glowering in disapproval in the corner.

"I said SHUT UP!" Two voices roared at the same time, one at the smirking demon, the other in his mind to himself. _'Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Sammy would never hate me! He's my brother!' _Dean squeezed his eyes shut, trying to escape from the scene in front of him._ 'That never stopped him in the past, Dean-O. Remember the asylum? When he __shot__ you, in the chest, at close range? Where was the brotherly love then, huh, Deanie?' _Labored breaths harshly resounded in Dean's ears as the voice in his mind planted rows of doubt. _'No. It's not the same. He was forced to, Ellicott made him!' _Beads of sweat rolled off his brow, splashing to the dirt below. _'Ahhh…but Ellicott didn't __make__ him, Dean Boy, Ellicott just brought the feelings up from where they'd been hidden. You know it's true, soldier. Remember—demons can twist the truth, but the point is….they know what's true and what isn't. And this time…well. I'd say it's obvious who's trying to fool who, right Dean-O?' _"No…" Dean protested softly, eyes opening wearily. It couldn't be true, right? But the voice, having planted and watered those seedlings of uncertainty, had vanished, leaving Dean with the demon's words echoing in his mind. "No…"

"Huh. That's protesting too much, if you ask me." Dean agreed--the vehemence in Sam's voice could only be from Sam trying to convince himself the demon was lying, when in fact, as Dean was now sure, she was telling the truth. Slowly, with a bowed head, Dean stood from his position, turning to walk away, back to the relative safety of the motel room, back under the covers where he could sink into a nest of blankets and pillows, close his eyes, and forget this ever happened. Just forget everything.

* * *

"All right. Enough of your crap. You let Dean out of his deal right now." The demon sneered at Sam, catching a glimpse of Dean rising from behind a bush and walking away, head bowed and face shadowed. She had no qualms to the fact that the older brother had heard _everything._ With an inwardly self-satisfied smirk, the crossroads demon turned her attention back to the littlest Winchester, only to freeze up for a second at the deadly gleam in his normally affable eyes. Oops. Must have struck a tender nerve with that little enlightening conversation. She smirked knowingly at him, purposely mocking him. Her toes curled in delight at the vicious, red-hot anger that her smile had invoked within the lanky man. Oh yes. This felt good. 

"Sorry, sweetheart. But your brother's an adult. He made that deal of his own free will. Fair...and square." Playtime's over, she thought to herself, not liking the change in Sam's eyes. It seemed he would go to any lengths to get his brother out of this deal, and her arguments wouldn't hold much sway over him. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

* * *

Dean stumbled to the door of the motel, keys half pulled out before he realized there was no need. It wasn't locked anyway. Staggering inside, unshed tears turning his vision blurry, Dean banged his shin against the small wooden end table by his bed. Sinking down onto the jumbled sheets and disarray that marked his bed, he was relieved for the aching throb of pain that shot its way through his body as it provided distraction for his mind, allowing him to blink away the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.

Straightening up, Dean resolved not to let the damn demon's words get to his mind. A faint sense of nostalgia rose up, engulfing him as he remembered when, what seemed like an eternity ago, he had made the same promise to himself. Looking into the dark brown eyes of his father, the eyes he knew so well but were now streaked with yellow and a bile-like color, Dean had vowed to himself not to let the poisonous words dripping off its tongue affect him….and yet, they had, and still did.

_**Flashback**_

"_You know, you fight and fight for this family, but the truth is…they don't _need_ you. Not like you need them. Sam?"_

_Here the demon possessing John cocked his head towards the figure of his brother, struggling against invisible hands that kept him chained to the opposite wall. Dean's eyes glinted, chin trembling ever so slightly. '_I don't believe him. I don't believe him. It's a demon, _THE_ demon, and it's lying. Using Dad's body to get to me. I won't let it. I won't let whatever it says get to me, dammit!'

"_He's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's _ever_ shown you." _

_And the sad thing was, the really pathetic part of this was that Dean knew that was true. Hadn't he always been the middle man? The good little soldier, like Sam accused? Wasn't he the expendable one? The only importance he had to their family was protecting Sam—whether that meant from the evils they hunted daily, to the bullies at school, to the growling of a hungry stomach, or even the fights Sammy and John had, when the screaming shook the rafters and all Dean wanted to do was curl up into a ball and escape. But he didn't. Instead, he forced his way into the fight, earning glares from both parties as he played peacemaker and kept them from tearing each other apart. _

_No. The demon spoke the truth. And he wasn't going to listen. He wasn't going to let it affect him, not ever again. But it did. Oh how it did. He could feel it, in his chest, the shattering of his heart. His heart had already been broken one too many times before, but he'd always managed to fix it, gluing it back together. Only this time….the shards were too small, and too numerous, for his heart to ever be fixed completely._

_**End Flashback**_

Even now, Dean's chest tightened at the old memory, as clear now as it had been months ago. As the tears rose up once more, choking him, he lurched into the small bathroom, turning the shower on full blast, and stepping in, not caring if his clothes got wet as he gave into the heart wrenching sobs that shook his frame, salty tears mingling with the shower water as they ran down his face in rivulets. The water droplets pelted his skin, the heat from the shower fogging up the bathroom in a matter of minutes as Dean succumbed to the whirling black abyss reaching up to him, the clawed fingers of his own abject misery pulling him under.

'_Sammy…' _Dean thought in despair. _'Sammy…why?'_

_

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YESSSSSSSSSSS! _**Another chapter done! im so excited! ahh...Angsty!Dean...gotta love it:) sooo...don't know when ill get the next chapter up...as today was a half day at school and that's the only reason i got this chapter done so fast! i PROMISE i will be working on it though!**

**REVIEWS would help it get along faster though! Any comments, critiques, or questions are welcome! it just makes my plot Dean happy to see those reviews in my inbox:)  
**

**XOXOXO till next chapter! thank you! XOXOXO**


	3. The Mind's Confusions

**_Disclaimer: Unfortunately...none of it is mine. :( the only things i own are...my Dean Winchester t-shirt! (yes, i was VERY excited when i got it for Christmas...:P)_**

**_Author's Note: Hey_****_! sorry it's taken THIS long to get this third chapter up---i know, bad me...tsk tsk and all that...but... well...i got nothing. here is where i would normally give an AMAZING excuse...except i have none. only my own lazy procrastination habits...sorry! just...pretend i have some awesome excuse. i was in the hospital for a gunshot wound or something...i dont know! use your imagination, people:P_**

**_Soo...i TRIED my BEST to be funny...and snarky...but im not entirely sure if i succeeded...so if you could give me suggestions or whatnot, i would REALLLLY appreciate them:D_**

**_ok! enjoy!_**

**Chapter Three-- The Mind's Confusions**

* * *

The soft rumble of an engine rose across the hushed air of the night, headlights' flashing briefly upon the peeling blue door of the motel room before the engine was cut and the yellow-gold lights vanished. Sam sat in the car, fingering the keys of the Impala as his eyes focused on something else.

Deep in his mind he replayed his conversation with the crossroads demon, wondering anew who held his brother's life in their hands. With a soft sigh, he blinked wearily and stepped out of the driver's seat with a familiar squeak of the black door. Closing it with a slam, he went around to the trunk, retrieving the duffel bag containing the silver antique gun that had taken yet another black soul that night. His hands stilled as they hovered over the bag, his mind focused on the girl the demon's tainted spirit had inhabited.

A wave of remorse swept over him—the girl had been around Dean's age. Young, beautiful, she had her whole life ahead of her, a family waiting to be made, a bright mind ready to take on the world…he pushed his mind away from those thoughts, refusing to dwell on them any longer. Gathering the duffel and closing the trunk with a somber finality, Sam trudged up the steps to the motel door, hesitating slightly when he realized it was already unlocked.

_Dean? Did someone try to get in? What happened? I was only gone for a moment…_ Trying to control his panicking mind, Sam shook his shaggy head slightly. _Get a grip. Analyze the situation, secure the perimeter, and come up with plan on given information. One at a time, soldier. There's no time for panicking. Move, move, move!_ A voice whispered reasonably, the gruff baritone quality sounding suspiciously like his father.

Narrowing his eyes and readying himself for a fight, Sam opened the motel door with a whining protest from the rusting hinges. Sweeping his eyes over the room, nothing looked out of place. Some of the tension left his shoulders at the scene before him.

The dingy room was exactly as he'd left it, down to the sprawled, slumbering form of his brother. A slight rasping murmur came from his brother's untidy bed, the sheets twisted impossibly around Dean's chest and legs, his right arm burrowed beneath the yellowed fabric of the pillow in a deceptively innocent nature. Sam let his guard down a bit more and grinned, relieved that there was no imminent danger in the placid scene of their Maple Springs motel room.

* * *

Dawn announced herself in the rosy wisps of clouds melting as the shy sun peeped his head over the horizon. The warm light he shed tip-toed into the motel room, searching for the inhabitants, bringing new life to the dew-soaked earth. When his fingers gently brushed against a chiseled cheek still buried in the pillow, the rays of light swept upwards to the man's eyes, shining down upon the closed eyelids, wanting to see the sliver of hazel-green beneath the dusted eyelashes.

Waiting patiently, the sun was rewarded with the opening of an eye, a slight quirk of an eyebrow, and finally, a deep throated groan, protesting the loss of oblivion with the residue of sleep huskily tainting his voice. The other eye opened, and Dean pushed himself up from his stomach until he could flop over onto his back and sit up. Yawning mightily, he stretched languorously, slowly, with feline grace, then with a last sigh of regret, swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood up.

Glancing at his brother's bed by reflex, Dean was slightly surprised to see his brother's lanky form still in the hold of sleep. Observing the creeping rays of sunlight as they crawled over the wooden floor, inches away from ambushing his brother in much the same way it did to him, Dean quickly and quietly responded to his big brother instincts and strode to the windows, yanking the shades with a vengeance, foiling the sun's wake up call.

He smirked smugly in his triumph over the sun before his face fell slightly. His eyebrows creased as he realized how he'd just sounded. _Triumph over the sun? What the hell? That doesn't even sound like something _**Sam**_ would say…._ Shrugging it off, Dean made his way to the bathroom, taking down the now dry clothes he had hung on the shower rod the previous night.

Pausing slightly in the doorway of the bathroom, his clothes in his hands, the taunting words of the demon rose to the front of his mind. His thoughts were no longer foggy with the sense of betrayal, but sharper, keener, a new sense of purpose revitalizing him as her honey-smooth voice jeered at him. _Hell no! I'm not letting that bitch get to me, dammit! Hunting and protecting Sam are the only things I need to focus on. Not some screwy ass demon chick's words. _

Unbidden, the rhyme he had taught Sam when confronting bullies in one of the many elementary schools they had attended cut through his thoughts. _Ghouls' gravestones will break your bones, but words will never hurt you._

Of course, he knew it was a lie, that sometimes words hurt more than physical pain, but the sentiment was a good one. _Geez, if Sam could hear me now…._ Shaking his head slightly in amusement, Dean stuffed the clothes in his duffel with all the other creased and jumbled articles of clothing in there. Straightening up, he looked over at Sam, still dead to the world and snoring slightly in his bed.

Shrugging on a black t-shirt and green over-shirt, Dean stepped into his jeans, laced his boots and then headed over to the dresser beneath the windows to retrieve his wallet. Picking up the keys to the Impala, the eldest Winchester left the room, needing a preferably large amount of caffeine in his system before he was ready to face the new day.

* * *

Sam awoke to the rumble of the Impala as it drove over the gravel outside their motel room. Blinking drowsily, he rubbed his eyes and sat up, leaving the comfort of his bed and gathering the cleanest clothes he could find, making a mental note to do laundry, and then headed off to the bathroom for a refreshing hot shower.

Standing under the spray of the shower head a few minutes later, Sam noticed a small chip in the tiled wall of the shower that he was fairly certain wasn't there before. Puzzling over it for a moment, he dismissed the idea altogether, his attention caught by the jingle of keys in a lock, then the creak of the motel door as it swung open and his brother's call. "Sam?"

"I'm in the shower, Dean! Be right out!" He yelled back, smiling at the sound of his brother cursing the unfortunate bag that got in his way. Five minutes later, Sam opened the door to the bathroom, a dubiously grey towel around his head as he finished pulling on the blue t-shirt he'd found. Dean looked up from the obituary section of the newspaper, coffee in one hand, red marker in the next, and motioned to the nightstand where another coffee and a few doughnuts awaited.

"Aren't you gonna eat?" Sam asked, unsurprised with Dean's standard reply.

"Already ate, Samantha." Dean's mind was whirling. Confront Sam about the missing bullet or not? Deciding to wait until later and therefore not risk spoiling the heavenly spell his coffee had cast, Dean turned back to the obits, unable to hide the brief flash of pain that lanced through his eyes at the sight of his little brother.

"_No more desperate, slobby, needy Dean. You can finally be free." _The laughing face of the demon replaced the old man who'd died of a heart attack on the page before him, the noxious words rolling through Dean's mind and bringing up all of the doubts of the night before.

He drew in a breath sharply as his bruised, tender knuckles brushed against the lamp on the desk, a painful reminder of his loss of control, resulting in his untoward 'accident' with the shower's tiled wall.

Swallowing thickly, he focused again on the newspaper, hoping to find a hunt—something he could concentrate on other than last night.

Sam eyed his brother strangely, missing the indrawn hiss of pain from said brother, mind more focused on wondering what that look in Dean's eyes had been. Regret? Sadness? No—it was something more, something stronger than sadness. What was it? His thoughts were cut off abruptly as Dean whirled around, eyes lit up and a tiny smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "We got a hunt."

* * *

The soothing purr of the Impala reverberated in the air as she cruised down the empty highway, Dean grinning faintly at the feel of his baby beneath his hands, completely in his element as he pushed his foot down on the accelerator a bit more. Sam sat in his usual spot, laptop in his lap as he researched their newest case a bit more. Rubbing at his temples briefly, Sam glanced over at Dean for the twentieth time in ten minutes, his eyes drinking in the content profile of his brother.

"Dude, would you stop checking me out? I don't see a pair of boobs, man." Dean smirked at his brother, the snarky comments easily sliding from his lips. Sam gave an exasperated huff and turned back to the computer. Running his tongue over his teeth, Dean leaned over and flipped on the radio, humming to Led Zeppelin's 'Stairway to Heaven' as it came in over the slight static of the radio. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, frowning at the computer screen before him. Closing his eyes briefly, he finally shut down the computer and leaned back against the seat to try to catch some sleep before they arrived in the next town.

* * *

As Dean pulled into the parking lot of Bob's BBQ Steakhouse, he checked on the lanky, snoring form of his little brother spread out on the seat of Dean's beloved baby. Gathering his emotions, Dean built up his walls, now weathered and craggy from all the abuse shot his way, and plastered a I'm-sex-on-wheels-and-everyone-knows-it smirk snugly onto his face before blasting up the music just as the guitar solo in Carry on Wayward Son began. Sam shot up with a muffled, "Whazzthat?" before he turned and glared at his older brother. Clambering out of the car, he caught up with Dean who was already halfway across the parking lot, still laughing over the expression on Sam's face.

"I'm just saying, Dean. You could wake me up in a way that doesn't involve killing my eardrums." Sam glowered at his brother over the small window booth they were sitting at as they waited for their orders to arrive.

"And ruin my fun? Not likely, Princess. What would you like me to do—play soft, calming Moose Tart while sprinkling you with magical fairy dust and tapping your head with a Barbie princess wand?"

"Moose Tart?? What the hell, Dean?" Sam stared quizzically at his brother, wondering about the sudden appearance of elk pastries in their conversation.

"Yeah! You know—classical music composer…child prodigy…wrote lots of pieces for kings and stuff….died early….." Dean trailed off, wondering what it was that he'd said wrong. Wouldn't Professor Geekboy be the one to know all about stuffy, long dead men like this?

"Um…..are you talking about Mozart?" Sam laughed inwardly at the bewildered expression on Dean's face.

"Yeah! Moose Tart!"

"You mean Mozart." Sam laughed at Dean's word blunder. Honestly…Moose Tart? Where did Dean come up with that one?

"That's what I said, Sam." Dean protested, trying to save face. However, his undertaking was impossible with Sam shaking his head and grinning at him.

"No…you said Moose Tart." Dean was saved from further humiliation by the arrival of their food, his mouth salivating at the prospect of a juicy, tenderloin steak wrapped in bacon and coming with a side of cheesy fries. Glancing over at Sam's pansy chicken salad, he rolled his eyes at the predictability of his little brother and dug in.

* * *

**Ok...so read and review? please? if only to leave suggestions...or...gasp gasp...flames:)**

**Once again---**

**_Soo...i TRIED my BEST to be funny...and snarky...but im not entirely sure if i succeeded...so if you could give me suggestions or whatnot, i would REALLLLY appreciate them:D_**

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**Thanks so much for reading! Until next time!**

3 jensenluv


	4. Winsome Enigmas

**_Disclaimer-yes...Dean IS mine! mine mine MINE!! (that is...in my dreams. otherwise, i only own his gorgeous face on my shirt. : but sooooon...)_**

**_Summary--Tag to Bedtime Stories... Sneaking after Sam when he summons the crossroads demon, what will Dean think when he overhears the demon's taunting--"No more desperate, slobby, needy Dean. You can finally be free." Misunderstandings, complications, and drama ensue..._**

**_Author's Note--HOLY CRAP I UPDATED! lol...sorry about the reallly reallly long wait...lots of things have been on my mind, and unfortunately, this story wasn't one of them! oops...:) anyways...thanks for being so patient and not biting my head off! :) _**

**_umm...once again...any advice or suggestions would be GREATLY appreciated...it's hard to get into the boys' heads...and i hope im doing an OK job...XD_**

**A huge THANKS to all those who took the time to review...Dean and Sammy plushies for all of them! :) **

**soo...onto the story...**

**Chapter Four--Winsome Enigmas**

* * *

"So tell me about this guy again." Sam asked as he dropped his duffel on the floor at the foot of his bed. The motel they'd found was leaning towards being a seedier place to stay than most of the motels they'd slept in. The bathroom tiles were turning pink with some kind of fungus, and a group of mean looking bikers lurked outside the window, fingering large, wickedly gleaming knives.

Sam crossed over to the window and quickly drew the moldering blue curtains shut. The ratty, stained, piss-yellow carpet clashed grotesquely with the gouge-your-eyes-out orange wallpaper, and there were some suspicious green splotches on the walls. Sam wrinkled his nose at the musty smell of the old, faded blue sheets as Dean poked suspiciously at a grime encrusted remote thrown haphazardly across his own bed.

"Seriously? What the hell happened to maids? Have we landed in a New Agey hippie town where no one believes in soap?" Dean muttered, staring in revolted bewilderment at his now-blackened fingertip. Sam huffed in disgust at the motel room, but then reiterated his previous query.

"Dean? Case?"

"Yeah, yeah. So this guy turns up dead in his bathroom with another mouth carved into his neck. Funny thing is, chunks of his body were missing—"

"Internal organs? Werewolf maybe?" Sam interrupted, brow furrowing as he thought of what it could be.

"Nope. Ruled that out when I heard that it wasn't anything _inside_ that was missing…rather it was his 'meatier' parts…an arm here, buttocks there, that sorta thing." Dean made a disgusted sound in that back of his throat as he pushed the obituary section he'd been reading a few days earlier over to Sam. His brother puzzled over it for a few moments, lips moving silently as he read the encircled article.

"Huh. This is the ninth time someone's died like this?" Sam thought out loud as he continued staring at the smiling, young man's face that only a few days earlier had been found with his throat slit.

"Yep. Police are thinking a serial killer, but we both know how arrogantly blind they are when their pretentious heads are stuck so far up their asses that—"

"Dean," Sam warned, smiling in spite of himself at his older brother as he paced in anger. "They're only doing their jobs…" How many times had he fed that same line to his brother, and how many times had Dean responded with…

"Yeah, only they're doing _our_ jobs, but they don't know what they're doing, so all they do is get in our way and then bust our sorry asses on some half-assed excuse!" Dean shot back, relieved to have the familiar banter between them to keep his mind off certain _other_ things….

Sam only stared blankly at his brother, trying to keep a small snigger from worming its way up his esophagus. "Sure Dean… whatever you say," Sam muttered, fighting the urge to shake his head at his obstinate brother.

"You know I'm right…you just refuse to acknowledge my superior intellect, Geekboy!" Dean smirked, turning his back on Sam to grab clean clothes before heading to the nauseatingly filthy bathroom for a quick, hopefully cleansing, shower.

"Jerk." Sam threw his rolled up socks at the back of his brother's head just before it disappeared around the corner of the bathroom door.

"Bitch!" Dean shot back, smirking winningly as he popped his head around to look at Sam before throwing his own socks back at him, pelting him in the forehead. "By the way, you missed, Mr. Uncoordinated!" Dean's laughter rang in his brother's ears before the spray of the showerhead was heard, followed almost immediately by an "Ew! This is just **nasty**, man!" The statement and the tone it had been said with sent Sam into stitches and forced him to double over from the gusty guffaws that shook through his lanky frame.

* * *

By the time Dean stepped out of the bathroom absentmindedly rubbing his scruffy hair with a towel as billows of steam hovered in the air around him, Sam was on the laptop, researching the case in the thorough-minded manner that had earned him numerous jabs and nicknames all relating back to 'sidekick,' 'Geekboy,' 'Professor,' and 'Walking Encyclopedia.' Typing furiously, Sam startled when Dean's husky voice came from just behind him. "Find anything?"

"No," Sam bemoaned, "nothing but dead ends and false leads. There's nothing in here about _anything_ that slits throats **and** takes outer body parts. I've read about some African religious cult called muti medicine that takes body parts for luck, but they don't slit throats. Then I heard about this serial killer that had been on death row for killing over a hundred kids. He mutilated the bodies for some kind of black magic ritual; however, not only does the ritual call for just the heart, hands, and eyes, but he lived and was _cremated_ in Colombia, South America. Then I found a lead on Jack the Ripper, a serial killer who slit the throats and mutilated the bodies of his victims, but they were all women, and the victims in this case have been men. No matter what I search for, I can't find any lore on a person, spirit, monster, or demon that kills in this fashion."

Sam's voice had adopted a lecturing manner he'd picked up from the teachers at Stanford, but as he wound down in his narrative, it returned back to its usual timbre. He looked over at his brother, slightly surprised to see the haggard look on his face. Before he could ask his brother about it, the look vanished, leaving behind the cocky, smirking visage as Dean plunked himself down on the bed, mulling over the research Sam had just thrown at him.

Sam waited for Dean to finish thinking. He recognized Dean's uncanny ability to put together connections Sam would never even remotely consider, much less think of, reminding Sam that Dean was not the dumb, macho man he let others believe he was. Dean had a complexity to him that would confuse even Freud. He had moments when he was the tough, macho, gung-ho hunter; times when he had eerie abilities that enabled him to wing plans and change situations to better suit him and get away with them; and occasions wherein he'd easily solve a puzzle Sam had spent days on in a matter of minutes. There were so many facets to his brother—Sam had once heard Caleb comparing Dean to the wind.

"_Dean's as shapeless and convoluted as the wind. You can't pin him down…no matter what you think, he defies all expectations. He can be the wind over the ocean in a violent storm; he can be the balmy summer breeze, the icy winter wind, the gusting autumn zephyr, the cool night air. He can soothe emotions, stir them up, spread wildfires. But he can also be the wind that helps birds to fly. He's utterly complex…mysterious, vibrant, and seemingly one-sided. He may be the strongest man I know, and he's also one of the true heroes I've had the chance to meet…"_

"Let's give it some thought a little later…right now I am _starved_!" Dean griped, clenching his stomach in an exaggerated show of hunger. Sam rolled his eyes. Of course, then there were moments like these, where his brother was hardly more than an overgrown, childish, bottomless pit.

"Dean, we just had lunch a few hours ago!"

Dean looked at his brother, gave a small shrug, and grabbed the keys to the Impala, motioning for his brother to follow him. Sam rolled his eyes once more, but followed without complaint.

* * *

A few hours later, after two greasy hamburgers, countless bottles of beer, and a few rounds of pool that left the Winchester boys over four hundred dollars richer, they stumbled into the motel room. Or rather, Dean stumbled while Sam supported the drunk hunter, leading him through the arched doorway and dropping the dead weight of his body onto the bed.

Sam stared at his wasted brother, surprised and worried at how drunk Dean had become. His brother rarely drank to excess, but when he did, it was a cause for alarm. Sam recalled the first time he'd seen Dean this drunk. He'd been sixteen, Dean had turned twenty a few days before…

_**Flashback**_

_"Do you even think of Dean and me? You're so wrapped up on your crusade, your stupid vendetta, that you don't even care about us! What the hell kind of a father are you, _Dad?_ A teenaged Sam stood glaring defiantly at his father for all he was worth. John stepped closer, bristling in his son's face with his own murderous fury. _

_"This is for your _mother_, Sam. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"_

_"I didn't even _know_ her, Dad. But I do know that this isn't the life she'd want for her sons." Sam shouted, tendons standing out in his neck as he tried to get his father to see his point. "Do you see what this is doing to Dean and me? Do you even care? You're never here, and when you are, you're always training us, preparing for this big, stupid, macho showdown against that thing that killed her—"_

_"How DARE you talk about your mother like that! You said it yourself, you didn't know her. How could you PRESUME to say what she would or would not want? You self righteous—" John raised his baritone voice, shouting in a manner befitting an ex-Marine. His eyes flashed, his whole body quivering with rage as he concentrated on not lashing out at his youngest son. _

_"Dean knew her! He would agree with me!" Sam's voice penetrated into the closet Dean had locked himself into, trying so hard to escape the argument. He'd played peacemaker for years, and he was tired of it. Tired of stepping between the two people he loved most. Tired of watching his family crumble around him. Now, when he tried to escape the fights and the verbal sparring, they brought him into it, trying to use his name as a weapon against the other. He knew in a moment that he would have to intervene if he wanted to keep them from getting physical. But he just couldn't sum up the energy. He felt hollow, lost, and lonely. Here was a remnant of the child he had been the night the fire had taken his mother from him. This was the frightened, lonely child who'd seen his mother's body burning; who'd heard her tortured screams intermingling with the shouts of his father as Dean had carried his baby brother to safety, stifling his own screams and tears so as to comfort Sammy. _

_"Dean would kill the demon! He loves the hunt! He was born for it!" John's voice drifted into Dean's brain, finally stirring him into action. Dean crept to the doorway of the room, watching Sam and John face off like they were in an old Western movie. His keen eyes detected the tensing in Sam's body and he moved into action. As Sam raised a clenched fist, Dean stepped between the two, not missing John's own tightened fists. Dean rose his arms in a placating manner, fighting the urge to quail under their matching chocolate-eyed glares. Firmly staring into each of their eyes, Dean let his voice roughen, unconsciously mimicking the tone John used to use to soothe him when Dean had woken up in a cold sweat, shaking from his nightmares._

_"Whoa, whoa…hold up, tough guys. This isn't what yo—"Dean was cut off as a fist slammed into his gut at the same time another fist pummeled his back. Doubled over and wheezing, Dean stared up into the shocked eyes of his normally placid brother, whose fist was still in mid-air, the knuckles brushing Dean's hunched over form. John's body posture echoed Sam's, and as Dean stared confusedly at the both of them, John could feel his eyes grow wider. He'd struck his own boy. Hard. Mercilessly. Furiously. And unknowingly— having let his anger get the best of him._

_The blow seemed to have halted the furious argument, and Dean would have laughed if he hadn't felt so betrayed and confused. The room rung with a deafening silence as the three men stood awkwardly in a triangle formation, each facing the others. The quiet swallowed the men, pulling them under as if they were drowning in the darkened depths of the ocean._

_Slowly straightening, Dean ignored both Sam and John's looks of concern, refusing to meet either of their eyes. Staring fixedly at his boots, Dean faced John and in a tightly controlled voice said, "I'm gonna hustle up some money over at Rosie's, sir." John nodded dazedly, his mind still trying to wrap around the fact that he'd hit his son. That Sam had hit Dean. That Dean had stepped in, playing the familiar role of peacemaker, and the two of them had been so wrapped in their argument, they'd failed to see Dean._

_John remembered with sickening clarity the red mist that had obscured his eyes, cleared only by a meaty smack, and the _oomph _of air leaving Dean's lungs. He knew Dean wasn't going to the bar for money. He knew it, and he didn't stop him. He knew that Dean needed solitude, and a chance to let the wound of betrayal numb within the alcohol-induced fog that would leave his mind blissfully blank._

_Sam, for his part, had sat dully on the edge of the couch, staring at his fists as his mind obsessively replayed the scene over and over again. He and John had stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, waiting for Dean until half past four a.m., when he'd stumbled in, reeking of the sickly sweet stench of liquor. The stench had sent Sam reeling at three feet away, it was so strong. John hadn't mentioned the midnight curfew, and Dean wasn't lucid enough to make any coherent sense out of the situation. Dean had been so smashed, he didn't protest to Sam's undressing of him, nor the lullaby John hummed as he tucked his adult son into his bed._

_**End Flashback**_

Dean gave a guttural groan before flopping onto his back as he lay on the bed. Sam, noticing the sickly pallor of his face shook himself from his memories, grabbing a trash can before Dean could empty his stomach and leapt to his brother's side. Dean jerked up, heaving his stomach's contents into the plastic bag lining the trash can. Sam rubbed his brother's back soothingly as he retched helplessly, again and again, until finally all he could do was dry heave. Sam could only look on, wondering what drove his brother to drink this much.

After Dean had fallen into a fitful slumber, Sam sat beside his bedside, watching the fitful sleep of his brother. With a sigh, the youngest Winchester stood up, heading to the bathroom. Reappearing a few moments later with a damp wash cloth, he moved back to his place at his brother's side, wiping the clammy sweat off the older hunter's face. _God, Dean. What happened? _Sam thought grimly to himself, studying his brother's handsome face as if to find some clue to his erratic behavior. _Why, Dean? Why?_

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**hallo again! reviews would be greatly appreciated! (as always..;P)**

**tell me what you think of it so far...what could i improve? what should i cut down on? where should i go? what did you like? anything! thank you!**

**XOXO thank you XOXO**


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